


Dearest Burden

by Anonymous



Category: OMORI (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Basically what the game is made of, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Dacryphilia, Dreams and Nightmares, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mild Gore, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Self-Hatred, Smut, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, Surreal, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:00:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29911770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When the lines between dreams and nightmares blur, Omori is forced to navigate Black Space in order to protect Sunny’s mind.During his journey, he delves through the depths of love, intimacy and pain.Or: Sunny has a very wet nightmare and really hates himself (and Basil) for it.
Relationships: Basil & Sunny (OMORI), Basil/Sunny (OMORI)
Comments: 58
Kudos: 232
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Too Warm

**Author's Note:**

> One of the most engaging things about OMORI imo is getting to decipher and interpret the more surreal aspects of Sunny's dreams and this story was written with this in mind. A lot of the writing in each chapter can be interpreted as metaphorical, literal or both at the same time! 
> 
> This fic will be divided in 3 chapters, each one more graphic than the last. Spoilers abound so please be aware of that!
> 
> The beginning of each chapter will include content warnings.
> 
> Chapter 1 CWs: Blood, sexual content, surreal imagery, various mentions of death, very mild gore and some violence almost at the very end. Characters die but since this is Black Space we're talking about, none are permanent deaths.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The end of a dream; the beginning of the nightmare.

_“Which one do you think was more painful?”_

* * *

This time, it had been something so insignificant. 

_So stupid, so embarrassing._

Omori can’t remember the times before this or how they’d been caused, but nothing could be as pathetic as this.

It’d started during one of those (progressively fewer) times he’d felt himself pulled out of White Space. Omori wasn’t home anymore and, as if watching everything through a window, hadn’t been able to do anything to stop this.

He remembers tiredness, the annoying chirping of birds outside the window and he remembers boredom. He remembers old fashion magazines carelessly scattered inside a drawer, likely owned by—

_That doesn’t matter._

He remembers pages full of people with defined cheekbones wearing extravagant clothes, some marginally interesting enough to give him pause for a moment before he was back to his lethargy.

And then his heart had stopped.

He remembers freezing at a particular page, where petals of all colors had kept him from even blinking. The sounds of birds chirping outside had grown distant at the sight of flowers woven delicately into a circle; a flower crown balanced daintily on top of soft, pale hair. A translucent veil had rested softly underneath a rainbow of flowers.

It hadn’t even been anything all that noteworthy, just an unknown person modeling a wedding dress for some photoshoot. He’d vaguely understood there was nothing to worry about.

But those flowers were all it took. He wasn’t looking at some unknown model anymore.

Under the petals, Basil’s—

_Sickening, gorgeous,_

— blue eyes were now the ones gazing up at him and pink-tinted cheeks adorned a radiant smile; flowers were gently woven into his golden strands and clad in blinding white, lacy little wings attached to the lower back of cloud-like fabric.

Blonde hair instead of pale green, from a reality not his own. A dress that reminded him horribly of a certain flower he refuses to dwell on.

Basil looked disgustingly innocent. Angelic. _Pure_.

The magazine had then been thrown to the floor but just that short moment had been enough. He’d nearly choked on his own heart. 

Basil hadn’t worn a flower crown in almost four _years_ , not since they were all twelve and—

_That’s not worth thinking about._

Why had any of this happened?

To add annoyance to injury, warmth had already pooled in the pit of his stomach by then.

It was an irritating feeling that he’d been growing more familiar with as the days passed him by. It used to be something that was easy to deal with but lately, that feeling had been plaguing him on an almost daily basis. Sometimes it’d get so bad that he’d confine himself to White Space for days on end, unable to think of anything but _heat_ and _touch_ and _want_. 

Hiding out in White Space on those days became a necessity so that his friends would never have to see this gross side of him.

Worse still were the few times he’d managed to head into Headspace to meet up with his friends. 

Omori had immediately noticed the changes in his friends’ physical appearance. Hero’s shoulder had gotten wider, Kel was suddenly taller and Aubrey…

Aubrey’s body had changed the most.

Although they’d still worn the same pajamas and acted as if nothing noteworthy had happened other than their ongoing quest to save Basil, Omori had rushed to the playground to examine himself at the floating mirror there. 

And it was _bad_. He’d found himself looking older and almost as tall as yesterday’s 15 year old Hero had been.

Something was terribly wrong.

All of his other friends had grown as well, looking horribly out of place at a children’s playground. Time had suddenly started advancing and Omori had instinctively known he could not let that continue a second longer.

To top everything off, when he wasn’t thinking of voluptuous sea witches or girls with pink bows, the memory of flowers and gentle touches would torment him endlessly.

That had been the beginning of the end.

Suddenly, Omori had been seeing _him_ everywhere he went. The Stranger wearing Basil’s skin beneath shadows. It had always been impossible to ignore the eerie glow of his eyes. Omori could never stop himself from following after him, enthralled, ignoring the deep-seated sense of dread the Stranger always instilled in him.

Now, he’s here, walking through black doors in the deepest corners of a nightmare, passing through progressively darker realities. Worlds inside rooms where the Stranger is always there, always there to urge him towards—

_No._

How many times has this happened before? 

Omori can’t remember. He can’t remember what brought on the times before this one, he only has vague feeling of being somewhere familiar and the Stranger whispering that he’s been here countless times before.

But even without remembering the times before, he knows this must be the most pathetic reason yet. All over seeing some flowers.

_All because of_ **_him_ ** _._

With each passing moment, frustration squeezes at his heart and his own hand tightens around the handle of his knife.

Omori’s steps echo loudly on the dark concrete under his feet. Glowing red skies fly overhead with strange violet clouds blurred into the light but the rest of the scenery around him remains washed in muted grays and blacks. Monochrome churches line each side of the road he walks on. Long, black tendrils hangs from broken street lights and sway in the air like flags made out of hair. Smoldering eyes stare at him from tall, humanoid black shapes, gaze following his every footstep. 

None of them are the Stranger.

Omori’s been opening the church doors one by one, stepping inside each one and everytime, he’s quickly stepped back out and kept walking, opening the doors of other churches in his path.

_“These rooms... are full of broken things...”_

Right after entering this place, Omori had encountered the Stranger again, standing in the middle of the road. The shadow hadn’t said a word before red hands had stretched out, descending from somewhere among the violet clouds. They’d grabbed the Stranger and, in the blink of an eye, dragged him up into the crimson sky, disappearing somewhere inside bleeding colors.

Somehow, Omori had instinctively understood what he was supposed to do. He was being led deeper into these worlds to find—

_No._

And Omori knows he can’t, that everything will break irreparably if he does too much of what the Stranger wants from him.

So instead, he has to find a way to rebuild the dream anew and he understands now. The Stranger’s words keep mingling with his thoughts and he understands everything now. Everything can go back to the way it was before, he knows that it’s possible. This isn’t the first time he’s been here and on each occasion, he’s managed to escape this place and build everything back up. 

Even without being told, he knows what will trigger the rebirth of his world and his friends. 

_“The flower boy who is closest to the truth… whose eyes glow an eerie red.”_

All he needs now is to find the right church. 

Swinging another set of doors open, Omori doesn't even bother stepping inside the church.. The soft sobs echoing on the walls and a cursory glance inside are enough for him to recognize another broken doll. Another Basil is lying on the ground, barely able to move as hundreds of thin, thorny vines wrap around him, piercing his body. Blood is lazily pouring from the wounds, pooling under Basil’s body, painting his fallen flower crown scarlet as he tries and fails to free himself. Omori can hear Basil gasping pitifully for Omori to save him.

Without a word, he steps back outside and closes the doors behind him.

It’s been this way with every building here that he’s gone into. Each church contains Basil. 

Basil lying on the floor, flowers blooming out of his chest, the blood flowing from them morphing into a burst of red petals fluttering in the air. 

Basil again, this time with his face going blue as he desperately tries to untangle the jump rope wringing his neck.

Basil once more, struggling as hair-like tendrils sink through his body until he’s choking on his own blood.

Each church leads to Basil, each one in a different state of agony from the last. 

Despite his now growing detachment, Omori had initially felt the compulsion to rescue every Basil he found. Dozens of failed attempts later and he’d realized just how pointless it was. In the end, trying to save a defective version Basil was a waste of time. Rows upon rows of churches stretched before him with no end in sight. 

The reset would have to be triggered in another way. Omori has an idea of what he needs to do and how unrelenting he’ll have to be.

But he will do whatever it takes to save the dream.

Basil has been fragmented into so many pieces, all of them spread too wide and thin across hopeless rooms. Though the hunt seems to go on forever, it’s no impossible feat. Eternal damsels in distress that all versions of Basil are, Omori knows it‘s only a matter of time before he finds the Basil he needs, likely crying in the clutches of whatever anomaly Omori will have to find and subsequently defeat.

_At least he’ll finally be of use._

The nightmare shudders at the callousness of his thoughts.

Omori makes sure to check each church, feeling increasingly more fed up with each iteration of Basil he sees dying in front of him.

Weariness makes him drag his feet as he walks to yet another church and opens the doors to—

“Omori!”

Hearing that bright voice feels like a breath of fresh air. It’s also like a punch to the gut.

In the middle of the room lined with wooden pews, Basil stands in one piece, not a speck of blood staining his overalls. The flower crown sits safely atop his minty green hair, no petals out of place. Even from where Omori is standing at the entrance, the scent of plants permeates the church.

This isn’t the right Basil. 

Omori needs the one that started It all, the one who crushed the dream and brought forth this nightmare.

But seeing even _this_ Basil happy and whole and _perfect_ has his throat closing up. It’s only now that Omori realizes just how unprepared he’s been for a moment like this. 

His fingers twitch on the handle of his knife.

Basil’s smile is radiant.

“I can’t believe you came here to save me!” Basil gushes with a little hop, “Everything outside this church looks so dangerous but you still came for me!”

Before Omori can register anything, Basil steps forward and places his hands against Omori’s chest. Needy fingers slightly bunch the front of Omori’s shirt up. Basil leans even closer, looking up at Omori with a beatific smile.

All versions of Basil also underwent the changes Omori’s Headspade friends had. Basil was still the shortest of all of them but his legs had grown longer. Basil had also gotten more shapely as well; not as blatantly as Aubrey had but the subtle contouring of his body was visible even with his short overalls covering him.

Basil’s voice interrupts Omori’s very obvious ogling, 

“I’m not the best at fighting but I managed to run into this empty church and I’ve been hiding in here ever since.” 

Basil’s palms smooth out against Omori’s sternum, resting directly over his heart. 

“Being alone here was scary but I’m sure we’ll be able to get back home together now that you’re here!”

A dull pain settles inside Omori’s chest. He wants to shove Basil away but he also wants to hold Basil tight in his arms.

“I missed you so much, Omori.” Basil sighs.

He keeps looking up at Omori with pure affection in his eyes. Like he’s the sun itself. As if he’s—

_“Simple, modest, and perfect. Just like…”_

—Irritation tingles at the roots of Omori’s teeth just as hints of that familiar warmth washes in waves over his entire being. It feels like frustration, excitement and longing all at once.

His eyes move back up to the flower crown and for half a second, Basil’s faded green hair has golden strands in it.

“Omori?” A small hand reaches out and feathery fingers brush against his cheek.

Warmth only keeps spreading further afross Omori’s body and the reason he’d been looking for Basil in the first place is becoming hazy. 

There was something important he’d been planning to do but the scent of flowers clouds his mind. Through the sweet fog, all he can think of are the lonely times he’s been spending in White Space. Lying in blank nothingness, a box of tissues at hand, fantasizing about soft thighs peeking from under short overalls. Sometimes, the imaginary scent of flowers would haunt him no matter where he went.

Amidst the new unwanted urges he gets, he also feels as if he misses something dearly, something resembling intimacy that he’s never been able to fully replicate even in his greatest dreams.

“I know this place seems dangerous but you’re so strong,” Basil says earnestly, “I know we can make it out of here together. I trust you.”

Omori’s had to confine himself to White Space so much lately and nothing has been enough to satisfy him. It interferes with the time he gets to spend with his friends and even in its current broken state, he absolutely refuses to dirty any version of Headspace in any way. 

But he’s no longer in Headspace. That world lies broken above them. For now, there’s nothing he could possibly do that would corrupt Headspace.

In Black Space, Omori is far from home. Far away in a world that is anything but pure.

So then...

“Don’t worry,” Basil’s voice reaches him through the haze, “We’ll make it through this safe and sound.”

This will do for now.

“Now that you’re with me, I know _everything is going to be_ —“

Acting on impulse, Omori closes the gap between them and resolutely silences Basil with his own mouth. Eyes open, expressionless, he stares into the shock of Basil’s own.

Rigid fingers unclasp the knife and let it fall to the ground. There’s no need for it just yet.

Petal soft lips are crushed against his own and he can practically taste that maddening floral scent.

Gasping, Basil almost squirms away but Omori is stronger than him and holds him in place. Arms wrapped around Basil, Omori keeps him flushed close against him, unwilling to let go. Basil’s lithe body fits perfectly against his own and Omori’s hands feel heavy as he drags them lower until his fingers are digging into a too-small waist. Coarse fabric keeps him from feeling Basil’s skin. There’s too many clothes between them. Basil is still gasping for air, trying to mouth words against Omori’s lips that are promptly swallowed up, his tongue delving into Basil’s mouth. It’s then too tempting to nip at that swollen lower lip as he slides his hands back up Basil’s body to gracelessly tug at the straps of those obstructive overalls. 

Immediately growing impatient, Omori digs his teeth harder into Basil’s lip, brusquely pulling the annoying straps down his slim shoulders. 

A surprised moan slips unbidden from Basil’s mouth. It’s the most satisfying sound Omori has heard and he needs far more of it.

Saliva runs freely from the corner of Basil’s mouth and Omori wants to follow it with his tongue. Facial muscles twitching, exhilaration burns through his veins. Molten heat drags from his neck down to his chest, his stomach and then creeps even lower. He knows he probably still looks cold and colorless but he can feel his body coming alive from the inside out. As he clumsily keeps pulling at the overalls, Omori finally frees Basil’s mouth. Panting, Basil stammers and struggles to speak and Omori takes the opportunity to bury his face into the crook of Basil’s neck, inhaling deeply. He nuzzles that slim throat, brushes his lips over the delicate skin there, feels the rush of blood through Basil’s pulse.

“Omori, w-wait,” Basil stammers, “That tickles...! Let me—“

Basil cuts himself off with a squeak when Omori drags his tongue against his neck and then nips at the sweetness of flowers over Basil’s pulse.

“...Nggh—That… feels so… Ah…!”

Just that first taste is dizzying and Omori feels as if something inside him is on the verge of snapping. He pauses momentarily to hold on to Basil and make an effort to steady himself, still clumsily mouthing at his smooth throat. Each breath Basil takes pushes his chest impossibly tighter against Omori’s. It’s after a long moment that his breathing calms enough for him to speak.

“Oh, Omori... I... I wish you’d told me from the start that you...” Basil sighs sweetly and throat hums under Omori’s lips, “I never knew that y-you felt this way... about me.”

Omori keeps his face hidden in Basil’s shoulder, just breathing him in.

_So easy._

Of course Basil wouldn’t need an explanation for anything. Omori doesn’t need to speak, Basil doesn’t need him to mutter a single word to understand what’s on his mind. 

_He’s always so desperate for your attention. You already knew that he’d happily take anything you give him._

Yes, it isn’t too much of a stretch for Basil to accept him so easily.

It’s what Omori keeps telling himself to brush away any feelings of unease.

Slowly, Basil then moves to reciprocate Omori’s embrace, gently wrapping his arms around him. He presses his cheek against Omori’s head and tenderly strokes Omori’s back.

“I really thought you liked Aubrey the most, so I never said anything but... the truth is that I’ve... I’ve always wanted this. I’ve always wanted to be held like this… by you ...”

Omori quietly exhales against Basil’s pulse. 

Basil’s words should make him feel happy. 

Instead, they dully echo in his mind, like the hollow fantasy they are. Meaningless.

  
  


But that doesn’t matter, there’s no point in lingering on it. This should still serve its purpose.

Omori loosens his grip and just goes back to quietly pulling at Basil’s overalls, sliding them down and out of the way. Basil lets out a little yelp and his face goes even redder.

“W-Wait, what are you— Um! ” Basil weakly pushes at Omori’s shoulders, “It’s-it’s dangerous here...! Maybe we should get home first and—“

With a muted thud, the overalls drop to the floor.

Basil gasps, eyes wide. Even though he’s still wearing his yellow shirt and a pair of short green briefs, he immediately fumbles to cross his arms over his chest.

“Omori! D-don’t just— you can’t just do that without warning!” Basil exclaims, “And in a place like this too! That’s so shameless of you…”

Though Basil is scolding him, Omori can’t help but notice the complete lack of anger in his voice. Basil’s attempts at hiding his body also look strangely half-hearted and clumsy, as if he’s just _acting_ like he’s hesitant instead of actually feeling that way.

“This is also… kind of embarrassing for me, you know…” Basil fidgets with the sleeve of his shirt, coyly looking up at Omori from under long, thick lashes, “It’s been a while since you’ve seen me like this, um… wearing so little...”

Omori’s seen Basil in swim trunks before, this shouldn’t feel like anything new, he knows this, but it doesn’t stop his eyes from roaming. Basil’s shirt is riding up from his movements, showing a hint of his round belly button. He’s squirming in place from embarrassment but his hips are swaying from side to side a bit too much.

It almost looks deliberate.

“—And you know, um… it’s a little unfair… that I’m the only one here that’s, uh, m-missing some of my clothes…” Basil murmured, “I think it would be nice to um, maybe see a bit more of you, as well…?”

Lowering his gaze, Omori fixates on the way Basil’s briefs slightly squeeze at the tops of his squishy thighs. Omori wonders how much it would take to mark them. His hands tingle for a second at the thought of leaving Basil’s body mottled with bruises, looking like an overripe peach.

Basil stammers something about _we’re in a church!_ and going home first. Omori ignores him.

Not even bothering with the wooden pews, Omori grabs Basil by the shoulders and pushes down until they’re both on the floor. 

But as scandalized as Basil had been acting, there is no resistance at all when Omori nudges Basil’s legs apart with his knees. Instead, Basil willingly spreads his legs a bit wider on his own.

Omori glances up and sees that Basil’s bright blush hasn’t left his cheeks; he still looks bashful but at the same time he also seems...

_Excited?_

Omori almost shivers as lithe arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Their eyes meet. Omori wants to look away but forces himself not to.

“Did you really… miss me this much?” For a moment, Basil's voice sounds a bit too hopeful before he’s back to stammering again. “I- I mean! I missed you too, of course! It feels as if I’ve been trapped here forever and… all I could think of was you.” 

For some reason, the way Basil speaks feels a bit cloying.

_Of course he’ll love anything you do to him. You made him like this._

With adoring eyes, Basil smiles tenderly. 

“You don’t know just how badly I’ve missed you, Omori.”

So sweet. 

Almost nauseating.

_You don’t like what you’ve turned him into?_

Basil’s affection has always held an undercurrent of desperation. He’s always so eager to please and Omori knows all too well that he’d do anything for those he loves.

But something about how wanton this Basil acts doesn’t feel quite right.

“Were you that worried about me? It’s alright. You don’t have to worry anymore. Here...” One of Basil’s palms runs down Omori’s arm and grabs his hand. Basil then gently pulls on Omori’s hand and places it on his own chest, palm flat over his heart.

“See? We’re together now and I’m okay.”

A fast, wild beat thumps under Omori’s hand and he feels breathless. It’s a precious sensation and he digs his fingers into Basil’s shirt, briefly fantasizing about tearing his heart out and sinking his nails into it until it burst.

**_This_ ** _is what you wanted._

“Omori, do you maybe need to… feel me a bit more... before we leave? Would—Would that help?”

Basil meekly looks up at him, lashes fluttering.

Something still doesn’t feel right.

Although Basil yearns for affection, he’s still awkward and painfully shy. The way he talks often makes him seem younger than he actually is, too. Basil wouldn’t go for coy flirtiness in this sort of situation. He’d be embarrassed to the point of tears and his voice would be trembling from the shame of getting felt up. Basil would be a nervous wreck, frantically asking for explanations and begging to go home.

_You don’t like your own fantasies anymore?_

And even if Basil _did_ want to be touched this way inside an eerie church, his anxiety would have made him hesitant at best. He’d be scared, shaking from both fear and mortification, trying to hide himself while simultaneously trying to please. Basil wouldn’t ask so confidently for this kind of thing. He wouldn’t just grab Omori’s hand to press it flat against his own body. 

_Then maybe you want him to hate this, instead._

But...

_You’re just the worst._

“I’m still a little scared of this place but… I trust you. Just, please... promise me that you’ll keep us safe no matter what happens.”

Omori decides to answer Basil’s pointless request with a kiss. 

Basil seems to take this as the confirmation he wants, his arms promptly wrapping around Omori’s shoulders to pull him deeper into the kiss. A pleased little hum leaves Basil’s throat and Omori watches his eyes flutter shut.

Wandering hands try to tug at Omori’s tank top but quickly retract when Omori shrugs them off. He doesn’t plan on taking his clothes off anytime soon. Omori already doesn’t wear all that much to begin with and just the thought of getting naked makes him feel gross.

Basil must sense Omori’s discomfort because he quietly waits a few breaths before wrapping his arms around Omori again. This time, he obediently keeps his hands gentle and undemanding on Omori’s back.

Both of them are inexperienced, their mouths locked somewhat awkwardly together but Omori can’t find it in himself to care. More than anything, he needs to touch Basil’s skin _now_.

Maybe he should feel a modicum of shame with how he roughly stretches out the collar of Basil’s shirt, ignoring Basil’s half-hearted protest. The way he nibbles at wing-like collarbones should be nothing short of embarrassing.

  
  


“Ah—O-Omori! Mmh…” 

  
  


But Basil is clinging to Omori, his body shivering wonderfully under every little touch. It doesn’t matter how uncharacteristic Basil’s demeanor feels; the breathy whimpers Omori earns as he bites down on a delicate shoulder still intoxicate him. With a hitched breath, Basil tilts his head further to the side, giving access for more little red spots to be bitten into his skin

It’s still far from enough. Omori slides his left hand down Basil’s waist, reaching for one of those milky thighs. He grips the doughy flesh hard, pressing and squeezing, feeling the place where thigh meets underwear. 

Suddenly, Basil clamps his legs shut with a whine, trapping Omori’s hand between them. 

“I’m s-sorry! I-I couldn’t wait any longer...” Basil stammers, “I just… I need you, Omori…”

Omori pulls away from Basil’s shoulder, a string of spit snapping between them as he glances up. Basil’s pupils are blown wide, eyes a bit too bright as he coyly meets Omori’s own, lower lip bitten red by his teeth. 

There’s a wet sensation on the very tip of Omori’s fingers. Basil exhales sharply and quickly closes his eyes.

“It feels so g-good...”

Omori looks down between their bodies.

With tiny whimpers, Basil keeps squirming in place and Omori’s trapped hand is dragged upwards. The movement has his fingers rubbing rhythmically against the damp patch on the front of Basil’s underwear.

Omori’s mouth twitches.

He lets Basil keep moving around his hand until it’s not enough once again. He spreads Basil’s thighs and forcefully grinds his palm down, firmly cupping the domed wetness there.

Basil gasps loudly, eyes wide.

Omori shoves Basil’s shirt up to his neck and barely gives himself time to look at the pebbled, pink nipples there.

Impatient, he promptly gropes at Basil’s chest, relishing the cry this earns him. Omori’s right hand kneads the plumpness around the pink little buds, digging his fingers into the thin layer of fat there to feel the frantic beat of Basil’s heart.

“Aah-! Omo...ri..!” Basil’s cheeks are already wet, his hips jolting up into Omori’s left hand.

There’s something sickening—

_Lovely,_

—about the tears welling up in those big, expressive eyes.

“Ah, I love—Ngh—love when you touch me…! P-please don’t stop! It feels amazing, Omori…”

Omori chases Basil’s cries with his own mouth, both of his hands busy with drawing as many pretty sounds from Basil’s lips as he can. His eyes feel heavy, losing himself to the way Basil keeps desperately moaning for him in between kisses. 

He nips at Basil’s tongue one last time before his lips are trailing down, foregoing Basil’s neck to go for his chest—

  
  


“Sunny…!”

  
  


Omori freezes and his eyes snap wide open.

Hearing that name moaned so tenderly in that sweet, adoring voice turns his blood to ice.

_No. This is wrong, so wrong—What am I doing—Basil wouldn’t—_

  
  


A hard shove, strings of spit making it to the floor, fingers reaching for a wooden handle. Headache.

_This is what you wanted. You ripped everything to shreds over something so stupid, so pathetic—and even like this it’s still not enough for you, is that it?_

“Wha… Omori, wait! N-no, please-“

_Not bloody enough?_

“Why?! Please, I—Nngh!”

_It’s not painful enough, not wrong enough, it needs more, needs to be worse, needs to—_

“Ghhk… O...mo...ri…”

There’s an unpleasant wet, cracking sound. Omori leans back and stares blankly at the knife in his right hand.

He belatedly realizes that he’s been stabbing something.

The flower crown shrivels on the floor. Basil lies under him, limp, glazed-over eyes staring at nothing. Wide. Empty. Multiple stab wounds decorate the previously unblemished expanse of Basil’s exposed chest. Blood steadily blooms out of the gashes, sliding down to the floor, staining it a dark red.

Omori can still feel the soft give of warm skin under his fingertips, the thumping of a beating heart beneath his palm.

_This was a waste of time._

Readjusting his grip around the handle of the knife, Omori stands up and briskly walks to the church’s front door. Red droplets silently hit the floor and he doesn’t bother looking back as he steps outside into the bleeding sky.

  
  
  



	2. Too Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omori tries to play at love with a broken doll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 CWs: Lots of blood, some gory imagery, death and thoughts of necrophilia but it doesnt happen in the end.  
> 
> 
> Aubrey/Omori is also mentioned but only in passing. Endgame of this story is fully with Basil.
> 
> Enjoy!

From then on, the rusty rain doesn’t let up. Omori’s stopped at various other churches now and it still keeps going, dyeing the churches red but leaving him dry.

Droplets that smell of iron keep pouring down all around him but somehow never touch him. Shades of red taint the world around him but Omori’s skin still remains as lifeless as ever. 

_“The flower boy who is closest to the truth… whose eyes glow an eerie red.”_

It’s as if his surroundings are mocking him, drenched in the red that he’s been searching for in Basil’s eyes; a red that’s always just slightly out of reach.

The Stranger is noticeably nowhere to be found but Omori will make sure that they meet again sooner or later. He’ll also ensure that it will be their last meeting.

Amidst the dark rain, the glowing eyes of tall, dark shapes illuminate his path. Reproachful gazes follow his every step.

Omori’s fingers can still feel Basil’s skin. 

The lingering sensation unexpectedly makes him think of Aubrey.

Aubrey, always clinging to his arm, making her interest in him so obvious.

Then there was the Basil Omori discarded a while back, the one that had acted even more brazen than his Aubrey ever did.

_His_ Aubrey. _His_ Basil.

Black Space keeps emphasizing what they are. Both of them are pitiful toys acting as caricatures of love, discarded and replaced each time they fail to amuse; marionettes controlled by the world’s most pathetic puppeteer.

_But like this, they’re all yours._

Basil is always inside the churches, still suffering and dying in different ways over and over. It feels like so much time has passed that Omori can’t feel much more than dull irritation.

However, he knows it’s only a matter of perseverance and as jaded as he feels, he also refuses to give up.

His hands push against a set of sodden wooden doors and he makes his way into yet another church.

No cries for help, no plaintive sobbing, no attempts at gasping out for Omori’s aid. The lack of sound is enough to pique his curiosity.

_“I have seen what you’ve done to him before…”_

Omori walks down the alley, the smell of iron getting stronger with each moment. His feet reach something wet and he stops to take in the scene before him.

_“...and pray that you don’t find him again.”_

Between the pews, the dark greys of the floor are interrupted by a large splash of red fluid. A delicate body clad in short overalls lies in the middle of the mess.

Ruined white daisies are strewn on the spot where the head should have been.

A cursory glance around the room shows that the head is nowhere in sight, so Omori's eyes go back to fixating on Basil’s body at his feet; carelessly thrown aside like an unloved toy, still and lifeless.

Unmoving. _Silent_.

The lack of head means no bright, lovely eyes to eat away at his resolve. No pretty mouth that only says the wrong things. No useless pleas that grate on his ears.

_No too-late apologies._

None of the things he can’t stand about Basil.

Just his soft, pliable body left behind, silently begging to be held.

_And he’s much less of a burden like this._

Omori nudges an ankle with his foot and Basil’s pale legs gently part, the shorts of his overalls riding up his thighs. Omori remembers all too well the feeling of his fingers pressing into Basil’s warm skin.

He hasn’t been able to rid himself of that annoying feeling thrumming under his skin. Resetting the dream will be useless if he’s still pent up like this. The idiotic series of events that broke it in the first place will just stupidly repeat themselves unless Omori gets rid of these aggravating urges for as long as he can.

And Basil’s body is right there. 

_Basil could finally be of some use, now._

Around him, the nightmare shudders at the callousness of his thoughts.

Omori’s on his knees before he realizes it, knife thrown aside. The blood on the floor sticks to his bony legs but he can’t bring himself to care. He reaches out and wraps his arm around Basil’s back, hoisting him up effortlessly. He feels even lighter than before in Omori’s arms.

Basil’s limp body falls back against Omori’s hold, his back forming a beautiful arch that pushes his chest out like an offering. Omori runs a hand up and down the spine. Just feeling the delicious way Basil’s body bends so pliantly for him sends sparks of anticipation coursing through his veins.

Until it doesn’t.

A tepid sort of cold seeps through Basil’s clothes. the skin so pale it would almost look like Omori’s if it weren’t for that sickly blue tinge to it.

And that revolting blue undertone looks oddly familiar.

Omori pointedly ignores the sluggish memory that’s starting to ooze from the church’s ceiling down onto his head. It’s a bit too viscous for it to be able to reach him.

It’s also nothing he can’t ignore. 

Omori inhales deeply and reminds himself that there are no longer any soft-spoken questions to break this silence. No hesitant voices here to repeatedly ask for reassurance anymore and so, Omori has the opportunity to examine Basil’s body thoroughly.

The area where neck would meet skull is impeccably sliced. Ruined daisy petals stick to the congealed blood of the throat’s stump and Omori finds even more blood-soaked daisies when he looks down the exposed windpipe. Omori briefly entertains the desire to push his fingers deep inside—cram the daisies further down, see how deep they can reach within Basil—but when his hand creeps up to rub at the opening, he finds the cooling stickiness of the blood there off-putting. 

Another part to ignore as the silence washes over him.

Omori makes quick work of the overalls, pulls the straps down thin shoulders and quickly pushes them halfway down Basil’s body. The shirt underneath is quickly shoved up, baring Basil’s soft chest to Omori’s eyes.

No pretty little gasps of surprise, no flustered stammering.

Just silence.

And there's that off-putting blue tint once more. It’s spread all over the expanse of Basil’s chest, his once rosy nipples now paling under a purplish, grey hue.

Omori runs his fingers lightly over them. Basil’s back curves limp on Omori’s arm. There’s no bird-like fluttering under his hand. 

The silence is deafening.

Frustrated, Omori crushes Basil’s body tight against his own and buries his face in the crook of his shoulder. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply.

The scent of flowers barely reaches him under the stench of iron.

There’s no heaving breaths pushing Basil’s chest against his, no heartbeat hammering against his own.

Undeterred, Omori tries to focus instead on the softness of Basil’s skin and how silky it feels to the touch.

He slides his hand over Basil’s body, relishing the smoothness under his palm. He presses his mouth against what remains of Basil’s neck and reminds himself that he doesn’t mind the taste of blood.

And that's true; the taste isn’t really what unsettles him, after all.

He just dislikes how cold it feels.

And as wonderful as Basil’s skin feels, it’s not enough to make up for its lack of warmth. 

The silence is starting to feel oppressive.

Omori can’t help but wonder about how different this could have been if this Basil’s head was still attached to his body.

The last Basil had been no use with his deliberately coy demeanor and fake nervousness. Omori ruminates instead on the way a more accurate version of Basil would have acted.

Basil would’ve been scared and confused from these surroundings, that’s a given, but if they’d found somewhere safer and private, Basil would probably be more agreeable.

It’s no secret that Basil’s always liked him more than anyone else in their friend group. Omori can’t even remember the last time Basil refused him anything.

Knowing this, it would be easy enough to take Basil somewhere private and more familiar to then gently coax him into more intimate matters.

Basil would obviously be nervous, still trying to ask too many questions at first, but after some patient reassurance, anxiety and the eagerness to please would war inside him. In the end, Basil would timidly mumble something about how he doesn’t want to seem ungrateful after being rescued. Basil would look away then, cheeks bright red, and shyly give in to more physical contact.

Immediately grabbing at Basil’s body would scare him and drive him to tears, which means more patience would be required. 

A slow, steady progression would have to be built up to keep Basil compliant and docile. Basil likes hugs so he would probably need to be cuddled chastely for a bit before fully being comfortable with kissing.

Lips timid but yielding, Basil would meekly reciprocate the kisses. He would make small, muffled sounds and then outright squeak at the first hint of tongue. It would be impossible not to find such a cute sound amusing and the embarrassment would have Basil pouting adorably.

Feeling hands encircling his waist wouldn’t startle Basil as badly anymore. Basil would still feel shy about being touched but he wouldn’t try to squirm out of the hold. The heat of Basil’s skin would be warm enough to seep through his clothes from how much he’s been blushing.

All the effort required to put Basil at ease would be a chore of course, but it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? 

Basil used to say he’d take care of the “baby of the group” among their friends but then his misguided attempts at help would inadvertently make everything worse instead. He’s always been the reason Black Space eventually invades Headspace. Every collapse has always started with him.

Basil is a precious burden who’s sole existence always shatters the most beautiful dreams. It would be way more practical to simply leave Basil behind and just work on keeping the rest of his friends safe in Headspace. Not only would that be so much easier but the dreams wouldn't keep crumbling so easily, as well. So many of Omori's problems would be solved right there.

But a dream without Basil is worthless.

There wouldn't be a reason for the sun to keep shining.

What Omori feels with Basil is probably the closest thing he’s ever felt to—

—Giving up, Omori sighs. His arms hold tight to a headless, limp body, trying to induce a warmth that’s nowhere to be found.

It’s pointless.

Even if Omori tries to warm Basil’s body himself, the heat wouldn’t last long enough to make any of this pleasurable.

Just cold, pale flesh in his hands.

Quiet, unmoving. 

Defaced.

Just like— 

_NO._

When Omori reopens his eyes, he’s back on his feet again. Basil’s half-naked body lies slumped against a pew, limbs akimbo; thrown aside like the broken doll he is.

He feels like an idiot for ever thinking this would work. 

Omori licks the blood off his lips, forces himself to look away and picks up his knife. Grimy memories hopelessly trickle from the church’s ceiling but he pays them no mind— They won’t ever reach him.

Readjusting his grip around the handle of his knife, Omori briskly walks to the church’s front door. 

The blood on his blade refuses to dry, dripping silently onto the ground. Omori grits his teeth, refusing to look back as he steps outside into the crying sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you guys liked it!


	3. Just Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omori plucks the petals off a flower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before the epilogue!
> 
> Chapter 3 CWs: Extremely dubious consent, explicit sexual content, restraints, blood.
> 
> This chapter is the most graphic and explicit one except when it comes to genitals. I left those vague enough so that you can use any trans hcs you might have! Otherwise, everything else is very explicit.

The rain doesn’t reek of iron anymore.

Now it’s a downpour of crystalline droplets that taste vaguely of salt. 

Unlike with the previous deluge, the rows of churches now remain dry under a red crust, looking like scabbing wounds. Meanwhile, Omori is drenched to the bone. The chill of the rain seeps through his body and down to his soul

At least the blood that had stuck to him was now washed away in the rain.

The glowing eyes are gone; the humanoid shadows are gone. All that’s left is the dried blood coating the dark churches lining the streets.

And that’s how he finally finds it.

Bright white against a sea of rust.

A church with the blood on its walls visibly being washed away in the rain. The white stone contrasts sharply with the crying red sky.

Statues of a religious figure flank each side of the church’s entrance.

Omori feels their silent judgement.

Standing at the entrance, he can hear sound from inside the church: rustling movement and hushed whispers.

For a moment, he rests his forehead against its wooden doors. 

With a deep breath, he swings the doors open.

The whispers hush immediately and are replaced by familiar whimpers echoing from deeper inside the church. 

Tall humanoid figures bathed in darkness sit on the church’s pews. Their eerie gazes are turned towards Omori, perfectly still. Impassively staring.

_Waiting for something to happen._

Omori quietly walks down the alley stretched before him, feeling the glowing eyes never leaving him. Each footstep brings him closer to the pitiful whimpers he’d heard from the entrance.

_“These rooms… are full of broken things…”_

Omori stops in front of a long set of stairs. From where he stands, he can just make out a beam of light illuminating a place beyond the top of the stairs.

“Aah… Why... Why did it end up like this…?”

The long climb feels strangely daunting but the whines and whimpers guide Omori up. 

“Hnng…! Please, it hurts... Let go of me…”

He knows what he’s been looking for is waiting for him right at the top of the stairs.

But nothing properly prepared Omori for what he finds as he reaches the last step.

  
  


_“... But at least in here, I can see who you really are”_

The whimpers momentarily stop, replaced by loud, labored breathing.

“Sunny… is… is this s-some kind of joke...?”

Basil stands on the dais, struggling uselessly against the red hands holding his limbs apart. More long arms hang down from the church’s ceiling, hands flat to keep Basil’s back straight.

Omori _feels_ them, like an extension of himself. They hold Basil up for him just the way he needs.

Another red hand descends from the ceiling, holding onto Basil’s neck, forcibly tilting his head up to meet Omori’s eyes.

No blind adoration can be found on that face anymore. 

Instead, Basil is giving Omori a wounded look that sets his heart racing. 

Basil looks _hurt_ , completely humiliated, and his eyes—

_“—whose eyes glow an eerie red...”_

“What is this—Sunny, w-why?””

Basil’s voice is shaking.

“Are you… are you trying to... make fun of me…?”

Red irises bright with tears look up at Omori reproachfully, demanding an explanation.

But Omori can’t utter a single thing. 

The corner of his mouth is twitching too much and his hands are shaking; he’s belatedly starting to process just _what the hell_ Basil is wearing.

  
  


Cloud-like fabric reaches Basil’s wiggling, stocking-clad feet. 

The attire’s cinched waist gives way to a dainty bodice, the top of it not even reaching Basil’s collarbones. 

A flower crown consisting of white daisies and white tulips rests on Basil’s head. A translucent veil lined with lilies of the valley falls from the crown.

Omori is livid.

_You creep, he’s wearing that dress. That stupid dress you saw in that stupid magazine. The one with the wings._

Only this time, the wings are made out of some unknown feathery material that makes everything even worse.

_You idiot. You disgusting, pathetic freak._ **_This_ ** _is what you want? You should just die already._

It makes Basil look just like the angel he is. An angel who only knows how to drag others to hell.

_He looks just like an egret orchid._

Omori is furious.

  
  


It’s pure instinct that guides him as he starts wildly swinging his knife.

Each swing of his knife tears at the dress, slashes through the cloudy fabric and comes back out spraying tiny drops of red

Basil’s eyes are now wide with fear and he’s screaming, renewing his struggles against the red hands. Blood rushes through Omori’s ears, pounds in his head; it makes Basil’s words sound unintelligible, as if they’re underwater.

More of Basil’s body is revealed under the torn fabric. Long thin cuts litter Basil’s skin with every new inch of him bared.

Basil’s cheeks are flushed as red as the hands holding him captive. He thrashes in their hold but all it does is send his shining tears flying through the air. He tries to angle his body away from Omori’s knife, makes aborted attempts at covering himself, but it’s hopeless. 

_This is wrong. Horrible and wrong and revolting. It’s perfect._

There’s more desperate yelling but only static buzzes through Omori’s ears

At some point, the knife just isn’t enough and so Omori tosses it to the floor. He grabs the wings at Basil’s back and viciously tears them off.

It’s only then that he emerges from his violent trance.

To the sound of Basil sobbing.

Omori's breathing hard, as if he’d just ran the world’s longest marathon. His vision finally focuses on the weeping boy in front of him.

Basil’s body is fully bared to him. Some thin scraps of cloth still cling to his frame but only the flowery veil and the stockings hugging his legs managed to remain intact. Superficial cuts embellish the expanse of smooth skin, tiny beads of blood forming on them.

Basil makes a miserable, mortified sound and Omori hates how much it excites him.

“N-no…Please stop looking… Sunny…!”

That name sounds much better like this, cried out in fear and shame.

Basil’s cute face is beet red; the flush reaches all the way down to his heaving chest, where his adorable pink nipples pebble into perky buds.

And Omori hates how his mouth waters at the sight.

Further down, a narrow waist leads seamlessly to the subtle curve of Basil’s hips.

The stockings are a bit too tight around the slight pudginess of Basil’s thighs and it only brings out the softness of his body even more.

So _this is what you imagined his body would look like._

For once, Omori can’t think of anything to criticize.

Between Basil’s legs, there’s a tiny bush of fair-colored hair right above—

“Stop! No, d-don’t stare like that…! Stop, just stop...”

Omori can feel through the red arms how Basil is desperately trying to bring his arms down to cover himself. Whimpering pitifully, Basil tries to curl in on himself but that only results in the red hands tightening around his wrists.

The detestable heat in Omori’s stomach ignites further with each little whine out of those pink lips.

“Please! I-I get it now, I do…! But I can’t take anymore of this!”

Basil’s body trembles like a leaf.

“This is what you wanted, right…? T-to punish me?? I kept trying to talk to you a-about things you want to forget! A-and you…!” Basil cries, “You can’t forgive me—you _won’t_ forgive me— so you decided to punish me like this instead!”

_Punishing Basil..._

Omori can no longer understand his past desire for a silent, headless Basil. 

Not now that Basil sounds so miserable. Not now that he isn’t just fawning mindlessly over Omori. 

And Omori’s thoughts just darken further.

He looks back on all the mind-numbing hours he had to spend searching for Basil while yet another Headspace lay in ruins above them.

Only to then find the Stranger wearing Basil’s skin. That hateful shadow that always tries to drag him down a path of no return.

Now, Omori feels like he finally has the _real_ Basil in his grasp, the one hiding under that shadow and—

_—It’s his fault. It’s all his fault, he always ruins everything. If it weren’t for Basil—_

“—And that’s mean, Sunny! That’s so mean! You just want to h-hurt me… And to make me cry, right?!”

Basil’s body just keeps shivering as if he’s freezing.

“If so then you—you win! You got what y-you wanted! I’m bleeding a-and I can feel my heart _hurting_ and I…”

Basil’s voice cracks as he tries to tug at the red hands holding his legs apart.

“I just want to c-cover my face and hide…”

Omori’s jaw is clenched so hard it feels like his teeth will break. He needs to get rid of these ridiculous urges once and for all.

_Punishing Basil…_

A dream can't exist without Basil in it so sealing him away is not an option. 

But at the very least, Omori can make him pay.

Make him pay for always ruining the dream.

_Make him pay for always starting the nightmare._

Cold fury grips Omori’s throat; he hates what he feels for Basil. 

And he’s never wanted someone so badly.

“S-so please, tell them to let go already!! I’m sorr—Hah?!”

Omori’s gaze flicks down towards the inward curve of Basil’s delicate waist, goosebumps littering the rosy skin. Without thinking, he finds his own hand sliding across it, running over the cuts on Basil’s ribs, smearing tiny trails of blood up to his chest.

_Make him cry for always screwing up._

In between the smeared blood, Basil skin is blissfully soft and warm. The remnants of white gauzy fabric get stained red. Omori’s hands keep dragging upwards.

“Wait, Sunny! “W-what are you—!”

As soon as Omori’s thumbs brushes over Basil’s nipples, Basil jumps with a squeak and his shoulders tense at once.

“Sunny—?! Aah!”

Omori presses both of his hands firmly against Basil’s chest, perky nipples pressing into his palms. 

Beneath the subtle fat of Basil’s chest, he can feel that strong heartbeat he missed so much hammering frantically against his hands.

And just feeling it again makes Omori’s pulse race. 

Basil’s whole body jolts and his breath hitches sharply. His mouth trembles and his face is redder than Omori’s ever seen it. His shocked gaze flickers back and forth between Omori’s cold eyes and the hands on his chest. 

Omori quietly exhales as he digs his fingers harshly, groping and kneading at the barely-there swells.

Basil makes a loud, broken sound, like he feels so embarrassed he could _die_.

“No...N-no more, please—! Th-that’s enough!” 

Large tears roll down Basil’s cheeks and he tries to pull his trapped arms free again.

“Sunny, I’m so sorry for a-angering you! This is just so… so humiliating… P-Please, let me go…”

Omori replies by dragging his nails against the tips of Basil’s nipples.

Basil chokes down a moan, squirming in the red hands’ hold, and bites his lower lip _hard_. 

Red fingers try to pull at Basil’s bitten lip but he just clamps down harder with a little growl. All other sounds are muffled behind his teeth.

Tearful red eyes look up at Omori with an almost defiant sheen

Omori frowns imperceptibly.

_That won’t do._

A muffled squeal rings out from behind Basil’s teeth as the red hands move his body like a puppet’s, positioning him better to Omori’s liking. He then lowers his face and seals his lips around Basil’s left nipple.

It earns him a startled, open-mouthed gasp that echoes all around them.

“Sunny—!”

He can feel wing-like fluttering under his mouth. This might be the closest he’s ever been to Basil’s pulsing heart without outright killing him.

With sparks running up and down his spine, Omori nibbles and sucks harshly at the peaked bud as if he’s starving; messy and wet, he grinds his tongue right onto it.

Writhing, Basil gasps and moans helplessly, his back arching beautifully. Omori’s own voice involuntarily slips from him as well; a low, muffled groan against the sweet bud in his mouth, his eyes half-closed.

If it was up to him, he could just stay like this forever, hands grasping at impossibly soft skin, all awareness melting away save for the taste of Basil’s heart, feeling its precious, rhythmic thumping against his lips

“Aaah… S-Sunny… Mnh…”

  
  


Basil is gasping and the sounds trail off into lovely, languid sighs and in that moment, Omori forgets that he’s supposed to punish Basil. That’s when he knows he’s getting distracted enough as it is.

Basil’s moans abruptly break into a sharp, pained hiss when Omori sinks his teeth hard into Basil’s skin. Floral sweetness gives way to the taste of copper and Omori pulls cruelly with his teeth.

_Make him pay for always burdening you._

“—Aaah! Haa…!”

Strained panting fills the air. Clear droplets fall from Basil’s cheeks and hit his flushed, heaving chest. 

A strand of spit connects Omori’s lips to Basil’s skin as he pulls back from his chest. Pinprick drops of blood bloom from the teeth marks encircling a reddened areola. 

The sight has Omori’s mouth watering all over again.

He drags his hands heavily down Basil’s body, digging his nails into the little cuts under his fingertips, smearing tiny trails of blood from them. 

Though he’s come to hate the color, Omori can’t help but notice how good red looks on Basil.

A red hand helpfully tilts Basil’s head back to expose the flushed column of his throat. 

Omori leans over and presses his lips against the heated flesh; finds Basil’s pulse and presses his tongue to it, feels it pounding under his mouth. The gentle scent of flowers fills his nostrils and he scrapes his teeth lightly over the taste of petals there.

Basil whines in the back of his throat and resignedly lets the red hands move him however Omori pleases.

Omori’s hands move from Basil’s waist and slide further down, his fingertips reaching the little patch of hair between Basil’s legs.

His fingers creep even lower. Only the light trembling of Basil’s body accompanies his roaming touches.

Although still panting, Basil has gone quiet.

It makes Omori realize that he hasn’t looked at Basil’s face in a while so he consciously decides to finally glance up.

Tears still trail down Basil’s blushing cheeks and his red eyes seem wistful, staring dejectedly into the darkness around them.

For some reason, that look stirs some strange, distant longing beneath Omori’s cold anger.

Unthinking, Omori reaches up and runs his thumb over one of Basil’s cheeks, wiping away the tears there.

_Basil’s eyes are red from crying._

“Sunny… I reached out to you so many times… I… I waited so long for you to come back to me but…”

Basil quietly sniffles.

“You still hate me… so this is all I can offer you… isn’t it…?”

No matter their color, Basil’s irises always glimmer like stars when he cries. 

_So punish him for always crying over everything._

A gasp of surprise and Basil snaps out of his sad musings; the red hands are moving him to shift his position again.

More hands slither from the back of the church to provide a makeshift surface to press Basil into, almost flat on his back.

Basil’s wrists are placed next to each side of his head, keeping his chest exposed, the bite mark Omori left there on display. The little cuts all over his torso are drying into a darker color.

The red hands gripping Basil’s knees and ankles pull at them, steadily spreading his legs wide open.

It’s like Basil’s been splashed with cold water and his embarrassment returns anew; he arches violently off the red hands at his back with a choked gasp. He squeezes his eyes shut, looking mortified.

“Aah—! Please don’t look…!”

But nothing could make Omori look away. His muscles are tensing up and he can’t tear his eyes off Basil’s defenseless body.

Basil looks so vulnerable that Omori almost feels dizzy from how much he wants him.

“Sunny…! “

Basil‘s pulling at the red hands again, trying to squirm into an angle that won’t leave him so exposed.

“Please, just—Let m-me at least just c-cover my face!”

Omori’s hands run up and down Basil’s legs, sliding from outer to inner thigh. His fingers toy with the elastic band of the stockings, squeeze the plump flesh there before he abruptly loses all patience.

Omori can barely contain the need to tear Basil apart.

Shivers of anticipation sweep across Omori’s back; his tensed muscles ache all over and Omori knows the only thing that can give him relief lies inside Basil.

He moves his hands back and shoves his own boxers down just barely enough to pull himself free.

At the feeling of Omori’s hands leaving him, Basil opens his eyes. His chest hitches at the sight before him..

“Sunny, wait...o-oh god, you’ve— Aah!” Basil panics and stammers, “Please d-don’t look…! Wait, please—!“

There’s no resistance anymore. The red hands effortlessly keep Basil’s legs effortlessly spread wide now that he’s frozen in fear.

_Make him pay for always saying the wrong things._

Omori takes a half a second to admire how perfectly he fits between Basil’s thighs and looks down between them.

The opening looks small, painfully so, but Omori figures Basil will be louder if he doesn’t bother with preparation.

Thin scraps of white cloth are still draped across Basil’s body and everything somehow feels even filthier that way. The flower crown and veil still remain in place while the remains of torn wings on a tattered wedding dress cling to Basil’s frame. It feels like tainting holy grounds; defiling a pure being, forcing him to take in every evil part of Omori’s heart.

And it’s far past what he can take.

The red hands push Basil delightfully flush against Omori’s body. At the first skin to skin contact between them, Basil stops breathing.

“I… I’m scared...”

Shivers wrack Basil’s body as Omori carefully lines himself up. Wrapping his hands around Basil’s waist, he starts to connect their bodies and pushes inside.

Basil whimpers, scrunching his eyes closed. Omori’s panting, not even an inch inside yet. He struggles to work himself deeper in while impossibly narrow walls cling to him. 

Shuddering, Basil whimpers as Omori carefully sinks into him inch by inch.

But he finds resistance about less than halfway inside that keeps him from pushing in further. He almost growls in frustration.

_Hurt him for promising everything will be okay.  
_

Around him, the nightmare shudders in disgust at Omori’s intentions.

With no patience left, Omori pulls back back and then snaps his hips forward, bottoming out with a forceful thrust.

_Hurt him for making you feel this desperate._

Omori has to grit his teeth as he watches, limbs tense, as Basil’s eyes snap wide open with a scream.

Omori’s lips part with an involuntary groan; he has to close his eyes and take a deep breath so everything doesn’t end right then and there.

_It feels amazing._

A startled sob is pulled from Basil’s chest as his inner walls spasm around Omori, little hiccuping breaths drawing more tears to spill down the sides of his cheeks. Basil’s muscles are clamping down like a vice, pulling Omori deeper in even as they strain against him.

“It hurts… hurts—!”

There’s the familiar smell of iron in the air mixing into Basil’s floral scent but Omori can’t help the involuntary stutter of his hips. He has to make a conscious effort to not give in and just rut like an animal into Basil. He feels like he’s been missing this kind of relief for so long that he _needs_ to make it last as much as he can.

Basil gasps sharply, chest rapidly rising and falling. It takes a while to find a steady pace, a few too-sharp thrusts making Basil’s tight walls clench down so hard around Omori that he hisses quietly through his teeth.

Despite how disgusting the thought of this act had been at first, there’s a cathartic sense of release Omori’s only ever felt here with Basil. The red hands holding Basil in place give Omori the freedom to keep moving while caressing Basil’s body almost reverently. That perpetual chill Omori usually feels within him is gradually melting away within velvet warmth. 

Sweeping his hands up and down Basil’s sides, sband Omori slows down a bit more to savor every moment he can get. Amidst the wet slap of skin on skin, Basil’s sobbing eventually gives way to softer, sweeter whines. He’s seemingly given up on hiding or struggling, his limbs now limp in the red hands’ grasp.

Omori is too dazed by the mind-numbing pleasure and he almost startles when he feels Basil’s legs straining against the red hands.

Only this time, he can feel Basil moving in an attempt to close his legs around Omori. 

Omori glances back up to Basil’s face, watching how the constant stream of tears leaves glistening trails on Basil’s cheeks.

“Sunny… hah, please let me—aah!—” Basil’s words end in a gasp, Omori’s thrusts creating a lovely, rhythmic staccato in Basil’s voice. “I-I won’t try to go any-anywhere…”

But Basil looks perfect like this. Tattered wisps of cloudy cloth still hang to his frame; feathery white petals drift from his veil and the torn wings at his back. The thin trails of blood all over him match the color of his eyes. Basil’s body jolts slightly with every thrust, causing his soft thighs and chest to bounce faintly. The red hands keep Basil’s legs spread wide open, keeping him exposed and fully on display for Omori’s eyes. 

With his nails biting into Basil’s skin, Omori leans back and stares down at where they’re connected.

Basil’s body swallows him up perfectly. The entrance is stretched tightly around Omori, clinging as if it’s trying to keep him inside indefinitely. Little beads of blood intermittently surface to line the stretched opening. The bright, pretty red contrasts starkly against Omori’s colorless skin, only to get smeared with each thrust inwards.

Basil’s gaze trails down as well, fixing itself on the place where Omori’s hips repeatedly meet with his own.

“Anh… S-Sunny…” 

Basil bites his lip, briefly closing his eyes.

“Does it feel good? Being in-inside of me…?”

For a few seconds, Omori can’t breathe. His next thrust comes out sharper than he’d intended.

_So **this** is how you want him. _

“Am I— Mmh!—m-making you feel good like this?” Basil gasps out, “Good en-enough for you to... stay with me…?”

_You tell yourself you love seeing him happy but the truth is that you love seeing him like this even more._

“S-Sunny...even if you can’t forgive me, I...I’ll do anything you need—a-anything so that you’ll h-hate me a little less...”

  
  


_Broken, like the dreams he always ruins._

  
  


What had remained from the torn wings clinging to Basil’s back finally slid off his body; they gently floated down to the floor, coming to rest at Omori’s feet.

  
_And completely yours._

“If th-this is the only way y-you’d want to spend time with me... then please—aahn! Please have me as much as you like!” Basil wails, voice trembling, “I’m so-sorry I tried to cover myself before. It—nngh… it won’t ever h-happen again—ahh!”

Flames lick through Omori’s core, turning coherent thought to cinders as his hand finds Basil’s neck. His fingers twitch with the desire to grip that slender neck to its breaking point and he shudders, trying to keep himself under control.

Omori manages to instead drag his hand down the column of Basil’s throat and then over his collarbone and shoulder. He palms at Basil’s chest, pulls and tugs at his nipples until they’re cherry-red. Basil whines beneath his touch, arching his chest into Omori’s hand even as more tears roll down his cheeks.

And even like this, Basil somehow still looks adorable, innocent. His face is hot with shame as he visibly forces himself to keep eye contact.

”Y-Yes—touch me, use me, w-whatever you want… I promise I’ll be good! I won’t say it hurts, I won’t ever complain or struggle again—“

And Omori doesn’t need any more encouragement.

Omori leans down and his mouth trails to Basil’s jaw, back down his neck, earning him an airy moan. A surge of warmth courses in his gut as he endures the intense pleasure of settling into a faster rhythm. His forehead drops to Basil’s collarbones and rests there. He’s breathing hard and his eyes involuntarily fall close as his hips roll into delicious heat. 

“You a-already know this but…. I’ll sh-show you again, how far I'll go for you. I’ll show you ov-over and over again!”

Omor buries himself as deep as he can inside Basil, his thrusts getting harder, with more weight behind his movements.

With a shuddering sob, Basil cries, “Sunny… I only ev-ever wanted to make you happy so—nngh!—please u-use me however you want.” 

And the way Basil begs to be used is so sincere, so heartfelt, like submitting comes naturally to him, that Omori has to bite down at Basil’s collarbone, nearly reaching his limit.

“Just…d-don’t leave me again...please,” Basil whimpers, high-pitched and broken. 

Despite himself, Omori’s breath hitches.

“I don’t want to be alone… not again...”

Omori’s heart throbs in his throat and he feels the ridiculous urge to tell Basil that he can’t stop missing him no matter how much he’s tried to bury him in Black Space. It’s a short and absurd moment of yearning that Omori will never let himself vocalize under any circumstances.

He pulls out until he’s barely inside Basil, and then shoves back into him hard.

“Ha—nngh, ahn—! _Aahh_!” 

Basil throws his head back, mouth open, moaning in a way that sounds like equal parts pleasure and pain; a dream and a nightmare all in one.

Omori can’t stop himself anymore. He’s gripping Basil’s hips hard enough to bruise and wildly ramming into him, panting harshly, relishing the way Basil mewls and wails with every thrust. 

Unable to resist, he leans over Basil, pressing them flush against each other, and kisses him long and deep.

There’s a sudden burst of wetness between them and Basil’s body seizes. Basil’s clamping down painfully tight around Omori with a strangled shout. With their mouths pressed together, Omori looks into round, startled eyes. 

Basil's wide _blue_ eyes.

Omori is pushed over the edge, gasping low in the back of his throat, hips faltering from the white-hot pleasure tearing through him. He spills months of desire deep inside Basil’s trembling body, leaving them both panting breathlessly.

Omori continues moving through the aftershocks of pleasure, finally coming to a stop after what feels like forever.

As soon as Omori catches his breath, he unceremoniously pulls out from Basil and steps away, his mind blessedly clear for the first time in months.

The red hands abruptly open and let go of Basil, carelessly letting his limp, bare body drop to the floor.

Hitting the ground with a weak groan, the Stranger lands painfully flat on his back at Omori’s feet. 

Thick, white fluid is slowly seeping from between the shadow’s spread thighs. It almost glows in the darkness, white mixed in parts with red.

The Stranger seems to have given up, making no attempt to get up or to cover himself. He lies on his back in surrender, not even moving to close his legs.

Omori stares indifferently at the way the Stranger’s chest heaves up and down from his labored breathing.

Although hidden by the darkness enveloping him, Omori can tell the Stranger’s face is soaked with tears.

The glow of wet, hollow eyes doesn't reach Omori's own.

“...So this is why you came back for me,” the Stranger murmurs despondently, “You never cared about ending the cycle. All you wanted from me, all you used me for, was…”

The Stranger trails off with a shuddering breath.

Not bothering with an answer, Omori sits back on his haunches and reaches for his discarded knife. Feigning indifference comes as naturally to him as breathing but the Stranger's words do make him wonder. Basil's smile has always been beautiful. Listening to him talk about anything, watching him tend to his plants, feeling his small hand in his own. All things he wants to treasure and protect forever.

For a second, Omori tries to imagine what it would be like to never want to hurt Basil.

_But the true Basil only ever says the wrong things. It's in his nature to do so._

The Stranger’s voice is trembling.

“Is this wh-what it would take... for you to finally care about saving us… outside...?”

_You can only love parts of him.  
_

The Stranger doesn’t try to struggle or fight back. He just quietly closes his eyes, more tears wetting dark cheeks. No more sound comes from him as Omori plunges the knife into the shadow’s chest.

When Omori pulls his knife back out, the blade is dripping crimson.

Omori thinks about his Basil, the overly-perfect one. The Basil that's always happy, always affectionate. The Basil who immediately loves anything Omori wants him to love. A child's toy, always eager for its owner to be play with it.

Omori thinks about the Basil in front of him, the painful one. The Basil who's eyes are always remorseful, always red from crying. The Basil who always unearths a deep sorrow that needs to be kept buried at all costs. A festering wound that will never heal.

_You want to save him just so you can hurt him with your own hands. You could never love all sides of him._

Silently staring at the unmoving shadow, Omori brings the knife to his stomach. 

_If you still refuse to die, you need to make yourself love the dream._

Without hesitation, he sinks the knife into himself, closing his eyes at the feeling of Basil’s blood inside him.

Omori’s body slumps forward and falls on top of the broken Stranger.

_The dream is all you have left._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post the epilogue tomorrow!


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today, I visited my friends. Everything was ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue CWs: Implied self-harm, suicidal thoughts.

Palms on the bathroom’s tile floor, Sunny keeps dry heaving. 

Despite the unshakable nausea, nothing more comes up his throat. He hasn’t eaten in nearly three days but it seems not even bile will come out now.

But the tears still haven’t stopped.

Shivering all over, Sunny barely manages to get back on his feet. Flushing the toilet takes way more effort than it ever should and he feels on the verge of fainting. 

Dull pain throbs at the sides of his head and his mouth feels bone-dry and numb.

However, he can’t stay here. He doesn’t want his mom to hear him and find him like this. Sunny needs to change out of his shorts as well. The fabric is slimy and sticking uncomfortably to his skin. 

And for some reason, his ever-present disgust this time goes much deeper than his soiled shorts or the tears clogging up his throat or the lack of food in his stomach. 

Everything about him feels irredeemably repulsive, inside and out.

_Because it is._

Sunny avoids his own reflection in the mirror. There’s nothing more to see other than his own blurry face staring back at him through a veil of tears.

He tries not to think about how red his eyes must look.

It’s been a while since he last despised himself this much.

There’s a strong urge to go to the kitchen and pull out a knife from the drawers but just thinking of knives brings forth haunting images of decapitated bodies and soft skin covered in thin cuts.

For some reason, Sunny feels unbearably guilty, as if he’d just done something horrible to someone.

But all he’s done is sleep. He hasn’t hurt anyone, would never hurt anyone. He _wouldn’t_. All he does is sleep.

_Everyone is better off without you._

It’s been a while since he’s last felt this awful. 

Something keeps clawing at the back of his mind, fighting to be acknowledged, but Sunny squeezes his eyes shut and shoves any semblance of memories to the deepest corners of his mind. 

With great effort, he successfully hobbles into his room and tries to steady himself, carefully pulling his shorts and underwear down. 

As he slowly puts on a new pair of boxers, a series of vague recollections consisting of gasping sobs and blue eyes assault his mind. He almost keels over again.

There were flowers and blood-red skies, anger and near-constant tears. Pouring all of his darkest impulses into the deepest parts of a shadow.

A nightmare.

Sunny had jolted out of bed, face wet, after a nightmare he only had vague memories of. As soon as he’d registered the wetness in his underwear, unrelenting nausea had immediately overwhelmed him and he’d barely made it to the bathroom. 

And of the few things he’d remembered, his skin could still feel the memory of a fragile heart beating frantically against his hands.

A rhythm he can still feel even outside dreams and nightmares. 

A heart that he’s held in the palms of his hands for years now. 

A beloved burden that he could choose to crush irreversibly or protect forever. 

Someone he never wants to see again but that he misses ever day, that he misses just as much as—

_No._

With his throat constricting, Sunny closes his eyes again, grits his teeth and pulls at his own hair, shaking his head so hard that he triggers another fit of nausea in himself. 

A fresh stream of tears runs down his face.

Dry heaving again, he grabs his sullied clothes and throws them into the laundry basket. It’s fine, mom never says anything about it. She always acts cheerful regardless of the things she’s found in his room sometimes.

And there’s nothing to think about, anyway. Not about mom or nightmares or anything else.

_Go back to sleep._

Struggling to breathe, Sunny lets himself fall heavily on the bed and he closes his eyes.

His mind tries to conjure up more memories of the nightmare but he stubbornly forces it to remain blank.

There’s nothing to think about. There’s nothing to remember. 

Nothing is wrong.

Everything around him eventually always fades into white noise. 

His tears will eventually start to dry on his face.

It will all be a dream.

* * *

Omori steps into the playground, followed by Aubrey, Kel and Hero.

For some reason, Omori had been relieved beyond measure when he saw Kel, Hero and Aubrey looking like they always do. Aubrey kept clinging to his arm, just as overly affectionate as she always is.

Omori had almost shrugged her off before he'd stoppred himself.

He'd attributed this strange urge to a bout of monetary confusion. Omori had been thinking about the playground and probably hadn't realized Aubrey had grabbed his arm.

A nagging worry about what he’d see at the playground had nibbled at the back of his mind but nothing has changed. It’s just another day like any other.

_There’s no reason for it to be anything else._

The playground is bustling with the sounds of the rest of their friends. Nose is on the slide, Mikal is at the swings, Berly is playing tetherball with Van. Nothing is different from any other day.

_"Today, I visited my friends. Everything was ok."_

“Mari!” Aubrey exclaims, running on ahead.

Mari waves from her spot on the picnic blanket. Besides her, Basil smiles happily, holding a bunch of different flowers in his hands.

“Hi, everyone!” 

Omori, Hero and Kel walk up to Mari and the mess of flowers on her lap.

“While we were waiting for you guys, Basil and I were making flower clips!” Mari says cheerfully, “You should all come sit with us for a bit.”

Basil nods and shows off the flowers he’s been holding.

“I want to try and make something nice for all my friends. I brought flowers from my house that remind me of you guys!

Omori can’t take his eyes off Basil.

Basil is wearing his usual flower crown and short overalls. Omori feels relieved.

Everything is ok.

He also feels something strangely close to disappointment, like he was secretly hoping for Basil to look different.

But that makes no sense.

_it's not worth thinking about._

Basil’s eyes peek from behind his rainbow of flowers and rest on Omori, gently affectionate.

“I’ll do my best to make something you like, Omori!” Basil exclaims enthusiastically, “If a flower clip is too much, I can try making a petal bracelet for you instead.”

After watching him for a moment, Omori internally sighs without really knowing why.

Everything is ok.

Aubrey is sitting next to Basil, _ooh_ ing and _aah_ ing at the pins he’s assembling and Kel is asking Basil if he can make a flower pin for Hector too. 

Mari looks smug, teasing Hero about something that gets him all flustered and shy. She laughs and looks over his head, winking mischievously at Omori.

Basil is chatting away about flowers, his smile unwavering, looking as happy and carefree as ever.

_Everything you could ever want is right here._

Whatever had worried Omori before had clearly been nothing but a bad dream.

Everything is ok, the way it’s always been. Nothing has changed.

_And nothing ever will._

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never expected this amount of comments or kudos, especially cus this fandom is still pretty small and NSFW fics sometimes get frowned upon. 
> 
> I'm super happy with all this positive feedback, it really motivated me! 
> 
> Thank you for joining me on this feels ride! Special thanks to everyone who left me long, thoughtful and thorough comments. I seriously love those and discussing my thoughts behind what I wrote and why. You guys are the best!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked this! I'm on twitter as @o3oeueo3o if you wanna chat about OMORI!


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